Fool’s Gold
Drifting Crumbling the most recent News Coo and tossing it aside, Magu Magu no Miopinion was bragging about her failure to kill Brazzers D. Brennan and finally get her hands on the Magu Magu no Mi. She mentally cursed both Lucky Roulette and the Female Marine for getting in her way and vowed to take his head on their next encounter alongside Brennan. Stomping on the head of the marine at her feet that was in the process of being eaten by Midas, Gold stood up and glanced around at the burning Marine Base and the trail of scattered bodies of the soldiers that attempted to arrest her before beckoning Midas to follow her as she began to make her way towards the main town. Climbing on the back of Midas once she was outside the crumbling base, the serpent released a pleasant hiss as a large pair of feathered wings burst forth from it’s scaled back. Midas who having unwittingly consumed the Tori Tori no Mi, Model: Lammergeier on the previous island became the main means of transportation for it’s master. Coiling it’s body tightly Midas rocketed into the sky with it’s large wings spreading wide this enabling flight and leading Gold towards her next destination, Port Royal. ---- The sound of docking ships and the cries of seagulls echoed through the vibrant port. The stench of raw fish drenched the air as traders from the north to as far as the east came here to trade the labour of their work. Besides them there were streets full of people going in and out of stores as quickly as they could talk, some came by simply to rest after their months of perilous work at sea while others sought out the rare items which they could find there and there alone. And because of this there was a slight myth surrounding the port, a rumour actually, these boneheads thought some of "these rare items" had magical properties that brought its owner incredible luck. Rich businessmen and unfortunate buffoons spent millions here each year, with the amount increasing as the years passed. Fools the whole lot of them, some went as far as to spend their entire life savings on these. Sad? Yes. An opportunity? Even more so. The sharp tongued bastard himself, Balmain P. Bairon, extorted millions from the area each year but this year in particular proved to be particularly fruitful. After all his descent into piracy meant that he was no longer bound by the law. The man in question sat in his captain's quarters quietly drawing out a map of the area as he stopped from a glass of red wine. As he did this screams of panic erupted from the outside. The crew had settled in Port Royal a couple of hours ago and begun looting the town around the same time. "Sir! We've just about finished up but the marines are on route! What are your orders!" One of his crewmen shouted as he burst through his door, his drenched from sweat. "..." Sending a sharp eye his way, the man slowly backed away, as Bairon took one lust from his wine glass before throwing it to the floor. "I suppose it's about time we showed those petty marine wannabes that we mean business." He said, grabbing his iconic hat from the table, as he walked towards his subordinate, whispering into his ear, "Ready the 'models' and clear the stage for the greatest fashion show of their life." A smirk formed on the other man's face as he ran outside and yelled, "Report back to the ship, Sir Bairon's ordered that we throw a catalogue for incoming weebs!" Hearing this hordes of men and women came running back to the ship, pushing and shoving each other aside as the sound of cannons firing echoed through the town. Debris flew through the air, buildings collapsed and people cupped their ears against the deafening. As the marines were either crushed, torn through or dispersed under fire Bairon came out of the ship yawning as he wore a bored expression on his face once things settled down. "Aw, we didn't even have time to perform. Ah well, more loot for us I guess." He said, strutting through the main street outside the port into the main as his men peeped behind the ship's main door, nudging each other to come out. As they stepped out the ship they noticed the previously squirmish townsfolk were still with fear, young and old but no marines in site. As their captain guessed the remaining marines were scared straight and were most likely returning to base for reinforcement. He let out a sight before saying, "Alright ladies and gentlemen we have a thirty minute window before the next wave of marines get here so 'commondeer' as much berries as you possibly can and remember.." he paused cocking a brow as a singular cry erupted from his crewmen, "To always steal with the utmost flare and grace!" Hearing this he clapped his hands together, a smile branded his face as he replied, "Then what are you waiting for fellow fashionistas? Let the grand finale begin!" Puru. Puru. Puru. Puru. Puru. Puru. The ebony skinned man took out the rolled tobacco from his mouth and held it between his fingers. He knew who was on the other line. And what this would be about. He hated emotions. It made him feel awkward. Even though he deserved this promotion, Azrael could do without the endless congratulations and pats on his back. Yet even he would prefer that kind of call as opposed to this. His finger twirled around the crimson liquid in the goblet on his desk. Droplets falling on the boy's face on the newspaper below. They caught the Magma user and needed all the help they could get. Puru. Puru. Puru. Puru. Puru. Puru. Azrael took another pull of his cigar and stood up. He didn't like public executions. Death should be intimate. Not something used as a display of power or infamy. His white dress shirt tucked neatly into his pressed dressed pants. A slim body which often betrayed his true might. He fastened his famous belt to his hip which came with several daggers holstered to the side. His famous dagger, Kingl. Weapons which he inherited from his father. Azrael pulled up his sleeve and stared at the tattoos that covered his arms. Wings. A heart. Several arcane symbols. Once a no-named marine, Azaral served the coastal guards when he was sixteen. Now...he commanded his own little squadron of marines. Whether he'd command them to their deaths or help them see their beloved families...well he hadn't figured that out yet. But something in him wanted to see it through. If all for the idea of his own idea of justice. Of Crimson Justice. Knock. Knock. Azrael opened the door and smiled. "Yes Joe." "Captain! We're approaching Port Royal. We've received word that the port has been under siege by the Balmain Pirates?" "Really? Those tacky hacks." Azrael wasn't the man of fashion himself. But he took pride in his appearance. Choosing a business casual look to clash with his more rebellious traits. Sharp eyes. Messy hair. It blended interestingly. "We can't reach anyone else though...I fear-." "Don't worry, I won't let that happen to you guys. That's why we're not going to just barge onto the port." Azrael closed the door behind him, leading the sailer down stairs and onto the deck. "I'm going to touch down first. I want you guys to dock on the eastern part of the island and save who you can. Rendezvous with me once the civilians and others are safe." "But captain-" His words were silenced by two wings ripping through Azrael's shirt. Massive appendages which seemingly belonged to a gigantic bat as opposed to a human. Azrael was one of the few users of the Zoan capable of localizing his transformation. Something he spent the entirety of his life perfecting. Two massive flaps and the captain shot into the air and towards the port. Azrael landed gracefully on the town's earth. His presence almost demanding silence. He looked around, sharp eyes glaring through the chaos. Azrael took several steps towards a group of men ganging around a woman who held her child to her bosom with what little strength she had left. Behind them, the body of a man with a giant gaping hole in what used to be his chest. "I'm sorry, but do you mind letting her go?" Azrael asked with a gentleman's smile. "Do ya think we take ordas from you?!" The seemingly leader of the man screamed. Despite being a pirate, they were dressed quite well. Albeit a tad bit tacky. He pulled out a gun and pointed it to Azrael. "Why don't you go ahead and put that away so I can keep this arrest to a simple aggravated assault." But before Azrael could pull the cigar from his lips, the familiar thundering of a giant pistol's explosion erupted from the barrel. Burning metal pierced through his skin and into his chest. The woman shrieked! Her screams soon drowned out by the grumblings of the men. Their ecstatic ramblings of committing murder adding to the cacophony of a pirate's Friday. Azrael laid on his back. Frustrated. Not because of the bullet lodged into his chest cavity. No. He hated that that thing was still there. He'd hoped that becoming this big marine captain would erase it. Yet he felt it as clear as day. Azrael pulled himself to his feet and leapt forward. Baring sharp fangs in the place of his normal teeth. He latched onto the giant man with a bite that seemed impossible to belong to that of a human. His fangs dug deep into the man's neck. No matter how much he tried to fight, Azrael proving that he was stronger. Second by second. The man's body began to age rapidly. From being in the prime of his life to now existing as nothing more than an old husk. Shivering in the ocean's warmth. The others began backing off. "W-what are you?!" One screamed. "H-help!" Azrael looked to the woman. Bloodied and beaten. Her eyes met his gaze. Almost asking what happened to the bullet hole in his chest. Nothing but ebony skin. Untouched. Not even a scar. "I don't have time to stop every single person. So...I'm going to have to exercise my military right and make a rough call." Azrael said callously. Fixing his cuffs. "I'm going to execute you all. For crimes against humanity. Please, call your captain with your screams." Azrael's movements were a blur. His body spinning as claws and talons ripped apart those before him. Blood spraying all across the floor. Drenching both the woman and her child in a crimson shower. They could only watch as he ran off. Continuing his onslaught of nameless pirates. Their screams becoming an opera of devastation and fear. However, for every three dead, Azrael left one alive. Hoping that they'd go fetch their scumbag of a captain. Men and woman went to and fro the ship, with bags of berries and jewellery, as they loaded the "commandeered" cargo onto the ship. As his men did the heavy lifting, Bairon sat calmly on a metallic table in the vault of the town's central bank, counting the stolen bills note by note to confirm the amount. There was no room for error. They only had one shot at this and he did not plan to let this opportunity to slip away. "256...257… 257,000,000 is all you have?" Bairon asked, as he packed away the last of the cash into a briefcase, "I thought there would be more than this but, meh, it matters not. We should be able to make up for it by selling that useless junk. Honestly, people." he groaned, pinching his nose while shaking his head. "Alright, gentlemen! We have less than 12 minutes remaining, let's get to the ship before we run into any road bumps along the way.", he jumping off the table with the briefcase in hand he had one of his men cuff him, he didn't want anyone getting their hands on this especially not the marines. "Gabriel, Alastair. I need a perimeter set around the ship as soon as possible. Remember we need to be ready for those fashionless hags when they arrive, if not there's no reason for us being here." he said as he made his way out of the room with a small army of his crew behind him, carrying similar briefcases, all cuffed to them. As they walked out the room he was met with the somewhat horrified faces of the bank employees as they stood in a straight line to the exit, lining up by the crew's sides as they made their way past them, obediently following them back to the ship. It was a long walk but it would be worth it once they cleaned the berries. Putting his hands in his pockets he let out a soft sigh as stared out into the clouds. It was a tranquil setting honestly. He would come here to promote his brand a couple times and tried to set up shop but this was his first time here as a pirate. He felt great. As if the burden he had been carrying all these years was washed away at once. It still hurt, don't get me wrong, but it felt as if this weight on his shoulders had been lifted. Lamenting on this fact he noticed an obstruction in his path, one of his men crawling by a wall, drenched in blood as he cradled himself and muttered uncontrollably. Motioning with hand he ordered one of his men to go check up on him as the rest went ahead with him being the sole exception. None of the townsfolk could have done this to him as far as he knew, leaving one possible answer, "A marine, heh? They did this to you didn't they?" The injured man simply shook his head in response as he retold the tale, coughing up a quite a bit of blood along the way. "A demon? Pft, don't spout the words of a lunatic, Rodri. A demon? Really?" Bairon remained sceptical about the matter but decided to nevertheless check it out. Before the man could answer he went on to say, "But I do want to find out who's pulling the strings here and shut them down". The teen with a snap of his fingers ordered his subordinates to take the man back to the ship while he searched for the bastard who did this to him and his clothes! But to do so he needed to have a clear view of the area, but not that he needed it not with the trail of screams that is. Following the trail of breadcrumbs would eventually lead to him coming face to face with the ebony man himself as hordes of civilians began to emerge from street corners and alleyways alike. "Are you the maniac who did this to my boys, you bland fiend?" he asked in a rather harsh tone, his arms folded and his crimson red eyes slightly open, like a snake, in an intimidating manner. ---- Dismounting Midas in one of the many alleys that sprawled about Port Royal, Gold effortlessly slipped into the crowed of people going about their day undetected. Having originally came to the island sized town due to the rumor about a influential Underworld patron who is said to have claimed all business transactions in this portion of the sea, she was hoping she could use his influence to track down the Ignition Pirates and the Roulette Pirates. So lost in thought Gold became, that she completely missed that group of well dressed men who she ended up bumping into. "Yeah, she said that the doctor might be able to remove it but it's gonna cost her though, that's what the doctor said anyway." One of the men spoke casually as he faced the two others standing in front of him. The men had decided to take a break from all the looting, grabbing a bite to it on the way. "That lucky bastard, if it were me I'd just–", his friend replied before being interrupted, dropping his masala to the ground as the girl bumped into him. "Hey, watch the threads, Missy. These things don't come cheap.", the man shouted as he stepped backwards before strutting a dramatic pose, holding his hand to his face as he gazed down upon the girl, with his friends in tow. "Do you have any idea just how much berries this outfit cost?", he questioned as one of the tried grabbing her hand, "You're very lucky that none of that gunk fell on my shirt but you're still going to have to cough up the dough though." The men circled her as stared down on her condescendingly, opening their blazers to reveal loaded guns. "So what's it gonna be, Missy? The dough or your life?" the man said, with one of his comrades seemingly whispering into his ear, earning a couple of nods and grunts of agreement, "And throw in another masala then we can forget any of this ever happened?" The marines had followed their captain's orders. Although it took an extra hour to actually dock on the eastern side of the island. And even more time to scale over the rough terrain. But this allowed them to catch the pirate nobodies by surprise. Their weapons in arm, they began to ambush numerous parts of the town. Executing those who they could not arrest. "For the captain!" They screamed. "Spill blood of the unrighteous for the Captain Azrael!" Another joined. Their cheers becoming a song of retribution. Several marines found their way to two men holding onto a woman by the wrist. They aimed their gun at the mens visage with a snarl. "By order of Captain Azrael, surrender!" "So, how about it–" one of them said as he turned around to face the marines. His smirk turned into a frown in less than a heartbeat as his other two teammates scratched the top of their heads, still circling the girl, asking themselves one common question. "Captain who-know?" "I think the punk's talking about the captain. Tch, our captain's as real as they come weebs and no, there's no way we're surrendering to you World Government dogs!" He announced, pride stained unto each of the words uttered, as the group pulled their handguns and decided to hold the girl hostage. "Let's see what your code of honour does for you now, you hacks!" One of the men laughed as he pointed the gun at her head. "Ooh, lookie what I've got here gentlemen. A hostage! And you know what that means? You're going to let me walk or I put a bullet in her head", cocking his gun he continued "Capeesh?" Azrael licked the blood dripping from his fingers. The scratches on his body seemingly disappearing. His clothes was drenched in blood yet kept as neatly as one could while fighting the crew of a pirate. But he didn't seem bothered. Not one bit. Instead, he turned to the man he presumed to be the captain and smiled. "So the head of the vermin has finally arrive!" Azrael said with a cheeky grin. "Sorry about the mess. Usually blood needs to be spilled for there to be any proper justice." He kept his eyes on the short captain. "Surrender now. You're under arrest." "A mess? No justice without spilled blood? Do you really need some sort of moral justification that badly to permit what you're doing?", he questioned as he stared at the bodies littered on the floor, drained to the bone, and blood dripped from his face. Whatever this man was he was not human, not a regular one at least "Rejirejireji! It's just cannibalism, buddy. Nothing less and nothing more. And they label us as the sickos when in truth the real sicko amongst lies within the marines!" Bairon laughed to himself as he held his hand out, ordering the men and women surrounding the inhumane to attack. "I am a demon." Azrael said with a nonchalant visage. He walked towards the the approaching pirates. "But sometimes it takes a demon to kill monsters." The captain wasn't one for the flashy moves of the marines. Those six powers? Everyone on the seven seas knew about them. They were trivial. And besides, he had his own set of abilities to rely on. Powers which he spent his entire life honing. Azrael pulled out King. It's black blade singing in the sunlight. He used it to deflect the barrage of bullets. He followed by swinging the obsidian blade cleanly through the defenses of sloppy swordsmanship. Deflecting blades and striking with a shocking speed. That was the beauty of daggers. Sharp as swords yet without the cumbersome weight. "You're no different from the World Government. Cowards sending others to their death just to protect themselves." Azrael gloated. "Come on. Fight your own battles. Fight for your own ideals!" "A demon? That's quite an interesting take on things but I must say that never once met a single marine that would openly entertain that idea. But hey, you live and you learn. Well, not those innocent souls at least, if I were you I'd stop my mindless slaughter and see with my heart and not my eyes." He suggested as he flailed his arms rapidly causing a a number of daggers to shoot out from under his sleeve, although the trail behind the daggers flickered a bit as he aimed for the ebony man's arms and legs. If he could disable those two things this fight was as good as done. After all he had no intention of finishing him off, he still had questions to ask. "But if I must though..." he muttered as his feet launched off the ground into the air as he sprinted, closing the gap between them, as two more daggers dropped from under his sleeves. Clenching the daggers he swung the one dagger with such force that a slight humming sound could be heard as it cut through the air to the victim's neck. His crimson eyes erupted with anger, the same feelings that he felt towards his father as he readied the second dagger, hiding it behind his first strike. Azrael stopped. Those words rang a strange bell in his mind. Something seemed off. That sloppy swordsmanship? Usually pirates had some sort of skill in their sword form. But this...this was too different. He hadn't the time to think though. For a barrage of knives cut through the air. Ironic. Azrael answered the pirate's onslaught with his free hand. Throwing the knives attached to his hip. Several clangs. Metal soaring into the air. A soft humming. The familiar feeling of cold metal slicing through his neck. He'd saw it coming but of course wanted to test it. A battle against a pirate...surely it would go away! The marine captain fell to the ground. His head landing on the body of a dying pirate he wounded earlier. Laying on his back as he stared at the blue sky. Choking on his own blood which poured from an open wound. Two minutes. He thought to himself. Is it still there...it is...isn't it? He clenched his fist. Nails digging into the skin of his hands. His heart racing in anger. His hand dug into the weakened pirate, causing blood to spray upon his body. The massive gash on his neck silently closing as the bloody fountain fell into his mouth. Meanwhile, the pirate's body seemed to shrink. His hair whitening and nails falling off. As if he'd lived the remainder of his life in but a second. Why won't it disappear?!